


happy to please you (and you alone)

by iidkkdii



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Kinky, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Some Plot, erotic gaslighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 23:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18788038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iidkkdii/pseuds/iidkkdii
Summary: "peaches."





	happy to please you (and you alone)

"peaches."    
  
peaches is his nickname, something that jacob had given him a week or so into his capture. it was just a nickname. something to degrade deputy staci pratt in the beginning.    
  
then, it graduated into a title. he was jacob's peaches. he was jacob's orderly, his lady-in-waiting.    
  
and after that, it was... more. staci wasn't sure what "peaches" meant to either of them now, but he was sure it meant more than a nickname, or a title.    
  
it wasn't romantic, or platonic. hell, staci isn't sure if he and jacob had ever shared more than a night together. sure, jacob uses staci's body as a punching bag, sometimes literally, sometimes not.    
  
the day before, jacob had cracked staci's head off the side of a desk. blood is still dripping down his face, off the bridge of his nose and down his chin.    
  
jacob's hand locks around staci's throat as he backs staci up towards a wall.    
  
"you thought you could get away with helping the deputy escape, didn't you?" jacob growls. 

 

jacob’s teeth bared, face tight and angry, bordering on furious. staci briefly thinks of the judge wolves, and how similar they look to their master. 

 

jacob gets closer to staci’s face, so close that staci can feel his breath. 

 

“you were wrong, peaches. so, so wrong.” jacob lets go of staci’s throat and steps away as staci collapses to the floor, gasping and coughing. 

 

staci gingerly touches his neck, taking note of the tenderness there. he looks up at jacob, defeat in his eyes. he’d given up fighting a long time ago. 

 

jacob kneels down, getting to eye-level with staci. he lifts staci’s head a bit further, gently, a startling juxtaposition to his earlier treatment. 

 

“so you know what must happen now?” jacob asks, looking almost remorseful. “i have to discipline you.”  

 

staci nods, swallowing hard. what would it be this time? surely it wouldn’t be worse than the time jacob sic’d the judges on him. or the time jacob let some of his charges “borrow” him for the night. 

 

“come, peaches, follow me.” jacob stands and walks out of the room. he barely waits for staci to catch up.

 

staci quickly gets onto his feet and leaves the room, nearly crashing into jacob’s stocky frame. he follows jacob’s brisk pace at a slightly slower walk. 

 

he follows jacob through his compound, relishing the sun on his skin for the first time in a long time. 

 

“did you shower today like i asked you?” jacob asks, out of the blue. 

 

“yes, sir.” staci nods quickly while his cheeks flush pink.

 

jacob’s lips twitch. “good.” 

 

jacob stops in front of a clunky bunker door and opens it. the door swings open widely, nearly hitting staci in the face. the two enter the big room, which can only really be described as a torture chamber. 

 

what kind of torture? staci’s skin crawls at the thin layer of water on the floor. the room is spacious, has a table and a comfortable-looking chair. the chair has leather wrist and ankle restraints attached to it. 

 

“s-sir?” staci asks, his voice small and quiet. he can’t remember the last time he spoke at a normal volume. “what’s m-my-”

 

jacob points at the table. “bend over it, peaches.” 

 

staci mutters a quick “yessir” and hastily bends over the table, pressing his chest onto the surface. warmth already seeps into his gut, pooling in his hips. his cheeks burn, low-key humiliated and aroused. 

 

jacob’s boots clunk closer, and staci jumps when jacob’s hand presses onto his lower back. jacob’s hand runs up his back and into his hair, spreading his fingers and gently massaging his scalp. 

 

staci quietly groans, fists clenching, wondering why jacob hasn’t sunk his cock into his ass yet. 

 

jacob sighs. long, tired and… unhappy. “i don’t like disciplining you, staci.” 

 

staci’s teeth grind at the use of his real name. jacob never calls him that, usually only pratt, peaches or some other pet name. 

 

“but… i do understand it is something that needs to be done,” jacob says, his voice almost regretful. his grip in staci’s hair tightens and he pushes staci’s head onto the table, holding it there. “especially when you piss me off like that.” 

 

jacob raises staci’s head and slams it down onto the table. “i will not hesitate to make you perform trials again, you know this. i only keep you around because only you… and you alone… can satisfy me.” 

 

staci blinks away stars. he adjusts his feet and fidgets with his hands. jacob usually isn’t so talkative, usually is touch-and-go. 

 

it’s unsettling. 

 

“yes, sir,” staci mumbles. “i’m sorry, sir. it won’t happen again, sir.” 

 

jacob leans close and mutters, “you’re damn right it won’t.” 

 

jacob releases staci’s hair and pets it gently, running his hand back down staci’s body, down his side this time. 

 

staci shivers. 

 

jacob pushes up his dirty hope county deputy uniform jacket and shirt. his rough, calloused fingers come in contact with staci’s warm, smooth skin. 

 

reaching around the front of staci’s hips, jacob undoes his pet’s belt and jeans’ button. once he pulls staci's jeans down over the curve of his ass, jacob reached into his own back pocket and 

cracks open the tube of lube, drizzling the clear gel over staci’s hole. he also slicks his dick up, quickly pumping a hand up and down his length. 

 

this sort of  _ discipline  _ originated from faith. it was her idea that jacob force staci into submission using sexually deviant methods. for someone whose whole deal is to be sweet and naive, faith knows a lot about a lot of fucked up material - serial killers, hard drugs, sex, etcetera. 

 

jacob also is very well endowed, more so than one might assume. the first time this method was introduced, staci was sore all over for over a week. 

 

carefully, not wanting to break his precious prisoner, jacob pushes inside of staci, grunting under his breath. staci muffles his initial moan, covering his mouth with both his hands.

 

“did you prep today?” jacob asks, grabbing staci’s black hair by the roots and yanking his head up. “tight as fuck for me, peaches.” 

 

staci nods as best he can, struggling to breathe fully. the angle at which jacob has his neck, it’s nearly cutting off his oxygen. not enough to halt breathing altogether, but definitely restrict it. “yessir.” 

 

jacob stops his smooth strokes and starts to slide out gently and slam back in, slamming staci’s hips against the table’s edge. his other hand, steadies the boy’s hips. 

 

“fuck, look at you,” jacob mutters, continuing his rough pace. “got such a hungry little asshole… eating my cock right up, peaches. tell me, you ever had cock up your hole before?” 

 

staci shakes his head, replying with a muffled “no, sir. you’re the first, sir.” 

 

jacob pauses. “peaches, i’m honored.” he quickly resumes the rough pace he set. “you’ve got such a tight hole. it’s absolutely delightful.” 

 

staci moans, one of his hands gripping the edge of the table and the table pressed out in front of him. his eyes are dangerously close to rolling back and the faster, deeper that jacob fucks him, the closer he’s getting to that release. 

 

jacob’s hand runs up staci’s side and lifts his torso up straight. staci’s back is pressed against jacob’s chest, his hands clutching jacob’s arms. 

 

the table presses into staci’s hips and when jacob’s cock brushes against the wonderful little spot inside him, the younger man chokes off a moan. he fucks his hips back onto jacob, trying to get his cock back onto that spot. 

 

“sir, please, i-i…” staci whimpers, eyes watering and voice strained. “may i come, sir, please? for you?” 

 

jacob’s hand slides down the deputy’s torso and wraps around his dick, rubbing him to the rhythm 

jacob’s hips were pounding into the boy. 

 

“you think you deserve to come? after what you did?” jacob hisses in his ear, his unoccupied hand resting on staci’s neck. 

 

jacob applies no pressure, just a reminder that  _ he  _ is in charge, that  _ he  _ is the one who calls the shots. 

 

“no, sir, i..  _ fuck,  _ please-?” staci cries, breath stuttering in his chest. “i don’t-  _ mmm..  _ i don’t deserve to, sir… jesus christ, fuck me.” 

 

jacob smirks, attaching his mouth to staci’s neck, bruising and abusing the tan skin there. hickeys fade much too quickly, even bruises from his hands fade too fast. a dark part of jacob wants to pull out his hunting knife… give this boy some scars to remember him by, but his morals won’t let him. the thought of staci parading a permanent mark, one that shows everybody just who the hell he belongs to, makes jacob's sick, twisted heart skip a beat. a traditional hot cattle brand burned into his flesh or maybe a simple “j” carved into his skin… 

 

“fuck, baby,” he mumbles, muffled by warm, lip-bruised skin. “perfect, you’re almost perfect.” 

 

staci’s legs tremble and his arms fly back to find purchase in jacob’s jacket. his moans and whines stutter, his head tilting to the side. 

 

“sir, please, i’m so close, sir,  _ fuck,  _ please i need to-” staci pleads shakily. 

 

jacob lets go of staci’s dick and bends him back over the table, fucking the deputy hard and fast. both men are sweaty, flushed red and so, so  _ fucking close  _ to release. jacob’s hair, normally pushed back, falls into his face, making this man, usually so put together, look so animalistic, teeth bared, pounding into this little twenty-something deputy. 

 

“may i please come, sir, please-?” staci begs, legs trembling, muscles weak, body begging for release. 

 

jacob presses a hand against the back of staci’s neck, cutting off the boy’s air supply. “don’t you fucking dare. what you did is  _ unforgivable _ , peaches.  _ unforgivable. _ ”

 

staci whimpers, whole body shaking, whining pathetically. he squirms, pushing his hips back onto jacob’s cock. 

 

“do you understand, pratt? do not come,” jacob growls, guttural and threatening.

 

staci’s left leg spasms and he whimpers, like a kicked dog. “f-fuck… yessir.” 

 

jacob focuses on his own pleasure, fucking into staci selfishly. one bead of sweat drips off jacob’s nose onto staci’s shirt and another down his temple. a white-hot fire burns in his gut, coiling and bunching like a snake in the grass, lurking and waiting for a chance to pounce. 

 

and pounce it does. jacobs comes hard, growling lowly, spilling inside of staci’s hole, thrusting one or two final times. 

 

staci cries out, jacob’s title of  _ sir  _ on his tongue, and countless praises and thanks follow soon after. 

 

“thank you for coming inside me, sir,” staci pants, squeezing his thighs together, desperate for friction on his own neglected dick. “thank you for fucking me, sir.” 

 

off-white sticky liquid begins to drip from staci’s hole, down his thighs until jacob yanks his pants back up. 

 

“cover yourself up, pet. now, since you were good for me, i won’t leave you down here to wallow in self-pity and disgusting hygiene.” jacob steps away, pants already up and belt already buckled. he approaches the door, waiting for his prisoner to hasten his pace. “i trust you learned your lesson?” 

 

staci adjusts his shirt, tucking the drab army green button up into his black work jeans. “yessir.” 

 

jacob lifts a hand and staci flinches, expecting to be hit. instead, jacob grabs his shoulder and drags him closer, whispering, “i’ll bring you to the hot springs tonight if you’re even better for me later,” and kissing his wet forehead. “before i do that, though, you will be showered and ready for me. eight o’clock, sharp. understand, peaches?” 

 

staci shivers and his whole body feels weak. “yes, yes, sir. i understand, sir.” 

 

“good boy,” jacob praises quietly, kissing staci’s forehead again and guiding him out of the grimy little room. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can rip this ship from my cold, dead, rigor mortis hands


End file.
